


Caring

by Aestheticdenbrough



Series: Oneshots [21]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Cat, Ear Piercing, Hair Dyeing, Other, Running Away, Underage Drinking, he's dumb - Freeform, idk - Freeform, my boy I love to hate him, post fight w the losers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 20:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aestheticdenbrough/pseuds/Aestheticdenbrough
Summary: Bill and the losers fought and Bill plots to run away.





	Caring

Bill locked every door and window he could think of. He goes upstairs, scratching O'Malley behind the ear gently. He goes into his bathroom, looking under the sink. _I'm really going to go away this time. Not like they'd want to stop me. Not my parents, not them_ , he thinks to himself. Tears are still flowing out of his eyes but he doesn't really care. He gets out the hair dye kit he'd gotten who knows how long ago.

He snaps on the gloves, pouring the dark dye into the bowl, dipping his hands in to rub it into his hair. He works it in until he thinks it looks about fully covered. He pulls off the gloves, throwing them out. He walks around, thinking about what he could do for an hour. Next he goes to the kitchen, pulling the eggs out of the fridge, cracking them into the pan and stirring them around while the stove cooked them. He doesn't do it well, but at least he tried.

"O'Malley!" He calls the little kitten, who scampers in, knowing that kitchen means food. It brings a small smile to bill's face. _At least it seems like he cares. The good little guy,_ he thinks to himself.

He feeds himself and the tiny kitten, just sharing off his own plate, not thinking that anything different would feel right. At least this felt like caring. When he was younger he'd eat off his parents plate. _That was nice, I guess,_ twitching a little at having to remember. And then he does something that surprises himself; he talks. He talks to his _cat_. He cries a bit more too, telling O'Malley all about his brother and his childhood and his friends and by the time he's done he's a mess again.

He goes over to the junk drawer, sifting through it until he finds a needle, grabbing his lighter out of his damp pocket and lighting it over the needle to sterilize it. He grabs an apple too, like he'd seen in a show once. He shuffles up to his room, to the drawer in his dresser where he kept his remaining "girl" stuff. He finds his old earring rack, finding one of the diamond studs he'd worn in his now closed up lobes when he was younger.

He takes this all to his bathroom again. He looks at his hair, the dye soaking in. it had to be washed out soon, so he had to do this quick if he would at all. He doesn't want to lose the adrenaline or else he'd never do it. He holds the apple behind his ear, the cartilage part. He holds the needle on the other side, pushing it through. He yelps a bit in pain, hearing the cartilage pop. He pushes it the rest of the way in, quickly pushing the earring in. He grabs a q tip to try and clean the blood, it was dripping down his ear a bit. He'd definitely done something wrong. 

His ear was throbbing and it was making him feel a bit dizzy to feel his heart beat in his ear, sitting on the edge of the bathtub for a moment, trying to collect himself before he has to shampoo his hair.

He washes the dye out, getting the dark substance all beneath his fingernails. He realizes this with a sigh. _it doesn't matter anyways_ , he thinks to himself. As he thinks that, he thinks of summer days spent in the dirt and the dark powder stuck under his nails that he got scolded for. Grass stains on his jeans that would make his mom sigh _but at least she'd loved him then._

He takes in a deep sigh, rubbing his head near violently to dry his hair, taking in the brownish hue that had replaced the red one. _Wow_ , he thinks, _I don't look like myself. And maybe it's a good thing._

After that, he goes back downstairs, meandering around the living room, pacing around the couch in frustration. Words repeat themselves over and over in his head until he plops himself on the couch with a sad whimper. The silence after that is nearly deafening. He decides the silence is what's causing him to be so upset. He crouches in front of the radio, turning the knob to a random station. a slow song fills the air.

He stands again, swaying a bit to the music. He looks over to the cabinet under the stairs. God how he knows this would be a bad idea, _but when is something I do a good idea?_ He makes his way over there slowly, feeling a bit like he's being watched even though he's the only one home.

He opens it, jiggling the knob gently, feeling like he can't just leave something messed with. He guides his eyes up and down a bottle of his parent's vodka. _Fuck it_ , he thinks intrusively as he pops it open and takes a swig.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the crap end, I was itching to post something oops, hope you liked it!


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